Tidal
by WynCatastrophe
Summary: One-shot. Padmé' Amidala's thoughts during her wedding night.


Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Author's Note: This ficlet was born out of speculation about what Anakin and Padmé might have done on their wedding night (three guesses). Anyway, pointless smut: just one way the evening might have gone.

Warnings: Overly allusive sex scene ahead. It's about the level of what you'd find in a genre romance, but it is also the whole story, so ... nope, no plot. :)

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**TIDAL**

"Slower," I whisper as he begins to move. I want to feel the tug and pull, like waves on a shore inside me, every time he surges in and flows away.

I sense the effort it costs him to slow his pace, but there is no hint of complaint in his face as he dips his head, contorting his body so he can kiss my throat and lick down across my collar bones as his hands come up to cup my breasts.

His touch isn't meant to turn me on, not anymore - he did that long ago - it feels like hours, but really it can only have been minutes. It's just that that was Before. Before I'd ever felt like this. I'm different now, changed by an intimacy I could never really have imagined before, even if I knew what to do. Now he's just reassuring me: reminding me that I'm safe with him, that I can take as long as I want, that he is finding me endlessly desirable, even as I frustrate him by begging him to slow the pace, yet again.

"Sorry," he mutters, taking all the blame himself, and slows down even more, until he is pausing between every thrust, driving deep into me and holding there, pressing gently until the sensation ripples out and I can feel him everywhere - pulsing in my fingertips, shaking behind my knees, humming behind my eyes.

He pulls out again and slowly finds his way back in, only this time he brushes against something so good, so hot and sweet, that I gasp and spasm around him, just once, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Oh, uuunnghhh ... what - what -"

He doesn't answer, not directly. He pulls back ever so slightly and presses again, looking intently into my eyes. "There?" he whispers, as excited and hopeful as though he were asking for the location of some hidden treasure.

The wild, sweet feeling sweeps through me again, and I can't answer him until the tide begins to run back out again.

"Ye - oh, _yes._"

His face lights up, smiling from the inside, so young still that he looks almost like a child getting a present.

And then he moves again, and he's not too young at all.

He picks up a steady rhythm, gentle and far more restrained than anything I had expected from him, a rocking motion so slight that he isn't so much thrusting into me as pulsing against that one spot, over and over again.

I open my mouth to tell him no, that I want to feel him thrusting deep, I want him all the way inside me, I want him buried to the hilt in my body. I want to know that he is, finally, _mine_, even if the physical sensations are less intense than what he's doing right now.

The merely physical can wait.

But the pleasure is so blinding that I can't _think_, can't find the right words, and the pressure is building, the feeling swelling inside me until it presses against my skin, driving out every other impulse until I am obliterated by the sweetness that thunders in my ears and flickers through my ribcage and pounds my body again, rising like the sea.

Like a tidal wave, everything recedes, drawing away until I can actually open my eyes again, and Anakin is _there,_ and we lock gazes, seeing each other inside-out, and he surges again and the sea comes rushing back, stronger and wilder than before, until it bursts against the inside of my skin, hammering me from the inside out, again and again, until I am scoured clean from within and I breathe deep, in ragged gasps, as though air is a new thing and I'm not quite sure how to take it.

"Now?" Anakin asks, his voice straining, and I realize that this probably was not the best part for him.

I pull my knees up and tilt them out, opening myself to him so that he can slide deeper and he does, _finally_ doing what I meant to tell him before, sinking into me until I can't even see the join between us. He's panting now, making soft whimpering noises, and suddenly, as though it had come from this mysterious Force he knows so well ... even though I have never been here before, I know exactly what to do.

I wrap arms and legs around him and whisper, "_Now_, Anakin. Come on, Sweetheart, come on, come -"

I feel the shudder start, an instant before he cries out, and in its own way this is better than before, feeling him gasp and shake and lose himself in me.

"_Padmé._"

On his way down, he remembers not to collapse on me: he rolls to the side instead, and carries me with him, so that I lie sprawled across Anakin and the bed as he sinks slowly out of me.


End file.
